


It Was Nice to Be Happy for a While

by Dernhelm



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Not Incest, Post-Dragon Age II, Sisters, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dernhelm/pseuds/Dernhelm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the immediate aftermath of the Kirkwall Rebellion, Hawke's grief finally consumes her.  Even when she pushes all her friends away, Bethany is still there at her side to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Nice to Be Happy for a While

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DAII. 
> 
> This fic is un-betaed, just a little post-game feelings purge after THAT ending. Sorry about the mess. I found it buried in my old story files and decided to dust it off a bit and share it, even though I know we're all riding high on Inquisition right now.

“This should be far enough for tonight.”

Hawke gave her companions a quick once-over, taking in their exhaustion. Several still bore hastily-bandaged injuries. She didn’t like the way Aveline leaned heavily on Donnic, or how Bethany favored her right leg. But they were alive, all of them.

All of them except…

“Merril, Fenris, check out that cave up ahead. It might be a good place to set camp.”

Wordlessly, the elves complied.

“Bethany, tend to the wounded. Yourself included.”

Hawke’s adrenaline had worn out hours before, but she’d kept herself going on sheer force of will. She was the champion of Kirkwall, wasn’t she? Forged of iron and stone, a legend in her own time. She could not let her friends down now.

“Varric, Sebastian, set some traps around the perimeter. Make sure no one is going to bother us tonight.”

“But I don’t know—“ Sebastian began to protest.

“Come on. I’ll show you how.” Varric steered the prince away. He caught Hawke’s eye for one brief second, and the look, the pity…

No. Not yet. Not ever.

“What about us?” Aveline stepped forward, dragging her husband with her.

“Rest. We might need you ready at a moment’s notice.”

Aveline opened her mouth to argue, then shut it tightly. She nodded, her lips pursed into a thin line, her eyes shining with brittle sympathy.

Hawke looked away, refusing to bear it. Luckily, the elves returned, announcing the cave clear. It was small, no more than a niche in the side of the hill, but it would be enough to hide a fire from prying eyes.

For the next few hours, Hawke absorbed herself with ensuring her friend’s comfort and safety. They were exiles now, fugitives. They’d given up everything for her. She owed them as much.

Finally, when there were no wounds left to tend or morale to boost, watches were set. Hawke volunteered for the first.

“I’ll stand with you,” Bethany offered, rising from her spot by the fire.

“That won’t be necessary.” Hawke raised her gauntleted hand, stilling her sister. “I have the Mabari. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“

“Get some rest. All of you.”

Before there could be any more argument, she strode out of the cave, forcing her shoulders back.

Before long, she found a flat-topped rock hidden among some brush, and deemed it a suitable look-out post. With a groan, she sat. Maker, she was so weary. Every muscle in her body ached, and she stank of blood, sweat, and ichor.

But it was nothing compared to the pain deep in her core.  It was as if her heart had been replaced with a lump of cold iron, a boulder blocking the flood threatening to spill forth…

She pressed back mightily, focusing on her watch, trying to do anything in her power to keep her grief at bay.

***

Inside the cave, Varric stood up.

“I’ll take first watch. Broody, you want second?”

“Aye.” Fenris nodded, though he didn’t look up from the fire.

“Donnic and I will take third,” Aveline volunteered.

“I’ll sleep by the entrance. Just so I can hear her.” Bethany hugged herself, repressing a shiver.

“Good idea, Sunshine.”

“What’s going on?” Sebastian looked up from cleaning his bow, casting a puzzled glance around the group.

Varric arched a brow at the prince.

“You really think Hawke’s in any state to be taking care of anyone right now?”

“Why wouldn’t she? She’s strong—”

“Are you really so dense, Sebastian?” Aveline cut him off, her eyes narrowing.

“The grief will be catching up with her soon,” Merril said softly, hugging her knees to her chest. “It’ll hit her like a fist in the heart.”

“You mean…over…over _Anders_?” Sebastian spat out the name as if it tasted foul on his tongue. “You really think Hawke will shed a single tear over that traitorous _terrorist_? He was a monster!”

“He was her partner.” Aveline enunciated each word, pulling herself to her feet. Even without her armor, she cut an imposing figure, and she stepped closer to the prince. Donnic let her go, watching his wife in silence.

“No matter his actions today, he was still the man she loved. And she put a knife in his back.” Aveline’s words were low, but they filled the cavern. “She’s strong, but she’s not made of stone.”

“Part of this is her own fault.” Sebastian didn’t flinch from Aveline’s stare. “If she hadn’t helped him—”

“She had no idea what the mage was planning.” Fenris looked up and pinned Sebastian with his sharp gaze. “If she had, she would have stopped him. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you so sure?” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, “Love will make a woman do strange things.”

“Like stab her husband in the chest?” Aveline growled, right into Sebastian’s face.

“Husband?” Sebastian blinked hard in surprise. “I…I didn’t know they’d taken vows.”

“They didn’t,” Varric said. He looked down, suddenly unable to look at Aveline, the naked pain twisting her expression into a mask of fury.

“Aveline,” Bethany said gently, placing a hand on Aveline’s arm. “It’s alright. He didn’t know.”

Aveline blinked, as if coming out of a trance. She turned away from Sebastian harshly, and strode back to Donnic. He said nothing, simply placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“So. I take first camp watch, and Bethany take first Hawke watch?” Varric broke the tension with his usual brisk tone.

Bethany nodded. “If there’s ever been a night when she needs us, this will be it.”

***

_“...we will fight for a world where our children can be born mages, and free. Ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no Templars to tear them apart…”_

_He looked so calm. No regrets, no fears. Both ready to die for his cause, and to live to fight another day. It was the Anders that Hawke had fallen in love with, with all his passion, focus, and sincerity. So different from the somber, preoccupied man that had shared her bed for the past few weeks._

_She reached for his cheek, to touch his face one last time before the battle. The moment the pads of her fingers brushed against his stubble, his face began to glow. Not the familiar blue webbing that signaled Justice’s appearance, but angry red cracks. They burst from his flesh like water springing from a shattering dam, blinding her so badly that she instinctively threw up her arm up to shield her eyes._

_She felt the blast more than she saw it, waves of bitter heat washing over her, through her. She struggled to see, but all she could make out were bright lines of unholy flame cutting through her beloved’s flesh._

_There was one final roar, and then all sank into a terrible silence.  Anders lay crumpled at her feet, still and cold as stone. From his back protruded Hawke’s dagger. The blood had only begun to pool onto the paved street, but it spoke of an unchangeable finality…_

_“…it was nice to be happy for a while…”_

Hawke awoke choking on her own tears. The bolder in her chest had been loosened by her dream, leaving nothing between her and the gaping maw of her grief. Her whole body shook with sobs, her fingers balling into fists over her eyes.

 _“Anders, you stupid sodding fool!”_ She thought bitterly _. “Why? Why did you have to do something so cruel, so horrifying…”_

“It’s alright.” Bethany’s soft voice cut through Hawke’s spiral of thoughts. She felt her sister’s lithe arms around her, cradling her from behind. “Let it go. You can let it go.”

Rocked in her little sister’s arms, Hawke lost herself in her sorrow. She had lost so much…so very, very much. Father, mother, brother…and now lover. Not just to lose, no…

“I killed him.” She whispered between gasps.

“I know.”

“I had to.”

“I know.”

“He couldn’t be allowed to live, after what he did,” Hawke said slowly. “How could I trust him? I could have put us all in danger…”

“Hush, sister. You don’t need to explain it to me,” Bethany soothed, stroking Hawke’s sweat-matted hair.

“I need to explain it to myself.” Hawke struggled to keep her words from hitching. “I need to understand why…why I killed the only man I ever loved—”

She broke down again. Maker, it was too much! Why must she be tried so? All she had wanted was peace, a place for her family to live in safety and comfort. She’d never asked to be the Champion of Kirkwall, never wanted to be the savior of mage-kind. If she had known the price…

“Why was I not enough?” The words were out of her lips before she’d known she’d spoken them. “Why was it not enough for him to love me, to have me? I’d lived my life as a fugitive from Templars. I’d have gladly done it again for Anders.”

Bethany sighed, and held her sister closer. “He was no regular mage, sister,” she said, gently. “He had a spirit inside him.”

“I had accepted Justice. I could have helped him keep him at bay…”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bethany said. “Anders…from what I knew of him, had a fighter’s spirit. He would have rather died fighting than give in—”

“He did give in,” Hawke said flatly. “After he destroyed the Chantry. He simply sat there and waited for my judgment. He did not argue. He didn’t fight. He simply let me…” Hawke trailed off.

“He had made his peace.” Bethany sighed. “He had finished his struggle.”

“His act of stupidity!” Hawke spat, anger welling in her chest. “I understood him! I believed in his cause! I would have died for him!”

“But you would not let him get away with slaughtering innocents. No matter how great the cause.” Bethany pulled her sister’s face up to hers. “I know you, sister. Even with everything you’ve done, everything you’ve endured, you still have a beautiful heart.”

Hawke tried to snort, and found her nose clogged. Bethany reached for her sash, and tore a piece to hand to her. Hawke blew her nose gratefully, then methodically wiped her eyes. She felt suddenly hollow, as if she’s been scraped clean of all feelings. She knew from experience that emotions would fill that cavity at some point. Sometimes they’d trickle in a day at a time, breaking her down only once filled, or rush in at once in a flood that could bring her to her knees unexpectedly. It had been that way with Father, with Mother, with Carver. It would be even worse with Anders.

“It was justice,” Hawke said softly, staring off into the sky.

Bethany cocked her head in confusion. “I thought he told you that it wasn’t him who did the deed?”

Hawke shook her head slowly.

“No. What I did to Anders. It was justice.” Hawke let out a shuddering sigh. “It was why he didn’t fight me He knew…he knew all along what I would do.”

“The right thing.”

“He forced my hand. He knew what I would do, and he forced me into his plan. I feel—I feel stupid, Bethany. Stupid for trusting him.”

“You loved him,” Bethany said simply. “Love can blind you sometimes.”

Hawke was silent for a long, long time.

“Who’s actually keeping watch?” She asked, giving her sister an attempt at a half-smile.

“By now, Fenris.”

“Fenris,” Hawke echoed softly. “I’m surprised.”

“I’m not. He owes his life to you. I think…I think he’d do about anything for you.”

“Please don’t say that.” Hawke shook her head vehemently. “Thinking like that leads to days like today.”

Bethany bit her lower lip, but nodded in agreement anyway.

“What I’m trying to say is, we’re all here for you.” Bethany said quietly. “We followed you into the flames and out again. We won’t abandon you now, when you need us most.”

“Thank you.” Hawke reached for her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “As long as I still have you, Bethany…”

“You always will.” Bethany leaned forward, and pressed her forehead against her sister's. They sat like that for a long time, locked in their all-too-familiar circle of grief and comfort.

“He’s with the Maker now,” Bethany finally said. “But he will not be forgotten.”

Hawke nodded. “Perhaps Mother will be kind enough to show him the way to his people.” She swallowed hard. “He always said he wished he’d had a chance to get to know her better. Perhaps now they’ll have time.”

“Perhaps,” Bethany replied.

They fell into silence once again, lulled into stillness by the absolute quiet of the night. The trees and the stones didn’t know what had transpired within Kirkwall’s gates that night. They did not care for the affairs of Templars and Mages. They did not feel the pain of betrayal, or the ache of a broken heart. They knew only sunrise and sunset, a rhythm of life greater than any one lifespan could hold.

Hawke lost herself in that rhythm, becoming nothing but emptiness. She was safe with her sister. No further harm would come to her this night.

At least there would be no familiar places to remind her of him. There would be no empty place in the bed where he had once lain beside her. No vacant place at the table. No running across his manifesto tucked into books in the library. None of that. They were all exiles now. She was now as much a ghost to her mansion as he was.

Everything she’d worked for. Gone.

“It was nice to be happy for a while,” Hawke said slowly, letting the emptiness wash through her.

“And you will be happy again. I promise, sister.”

It was all still too fresh for Hawke to think of, the idea of a future beyond survival. She thought she had been done with running once she’d come to Kirkwall. How wrong she’d been.

“Maker, I’m tired,” she murmured, exhaustion creeping upon the tail end of her misery.

“Let’s get you some rest.”

Bethany made to stand, but Hawke pulled her back.

“I can’t face them. Not like this. Not tonight,” Hawke said.

Bethany nodded. “Then we sleep out here. They’ll keep watch on us.”

“Thank you,” Hawke said, already standing to find a good place to sleep.

Within minutes, they were curled together at the foot of a scrappy tree.  Sisterly instinct led their hands to each other, and they slept with their hands entwined. It was a comfort older and more profound that a lover’s embrace: the solace of blood, of bonds that could not be broken by death or betrayal.

 


End file.
